


Theridiidae

by spiderstanspiderstan



Series: Lycosidae [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Author is not a material physicist, Ceiling Peter is the new Air Vent Clint, Gen, concrit wanted, please wear shoes in labs I doubt you have a healing factor, post-instar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:00:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9268769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiderstanspiderstan/pseuds/spiderstanspiderstan
Summary: Peter abruptly stopped adding plastic to wax and started being on the ceiling, because holy fuck. Nobody snuck up on him, ever.Except for one person. Because she could sneak up on anyone.Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was staring up at him, looking deeply unimpressed.





	

On paper, Peter wasn’t allowed in the lab unsupervised. Because on paper, Peter was an intern, and interns didn’t have rights. 

In  _ reality _ , Peter was Spider-Man, and he could do what he wanted. Provided he got the resident babysitter AIs out of the way. Vision wasn’t even in the city, and the little offshoot of Friday that stalked him around sometimes was...dealt with. Things were going great. 

He was working, not on his web-shooters, but the webbing canisters themselves.  

Tony had left most of the mechanism alone, but he had a thing for replacing moving parts and he’d done so. What he  _ hadn’t _ touched, however, was the canister design. Peter wouldn’t have either- they were machined wax, set to fail at one end. And they tended to do just that, in really awkward places like the inside of a pocket or under Peter’s bed. The wax was difficult to work with. It lead to a lot of fire, mostly because he mixed it in an erratic deep fat fryer that the neighbours had thrown out.  

But that didn’t matter. Because he had access to SI labs now, and SI labs were basically nerd Valhalla. He’d have sold his literal soul for a chance to use them before. He had a badge that unlocked the doors and everything, on the world’s fanciest lanyard. 

The downstairs workshop had lent itself beautifully to borrowing inspiration from “How It’s Made” for molding techniques, and he was so, so close to  _ finally _ being able to machine-make the things, which would save an incredible amount of time. 

He was slowly adding LDPE- in fancy pellets, rather than bottle caps he’d snipped up with scissors- to high-quality paraffin wax (using a painfully fancy heating mantle) when someone said “Hi”. 

Peter abruptly stopped adding plastic to wax and started being on the ceiling, because  _ holy fuck _ . Nobody snuck up on him, ever. 

Except for one person. Because she could sneak up on anyone. 

Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, was staring up at him, looking deeply unimpressed.

His first thought was of his webshooters, which were hidden in his lunchbox, which was in his backpack. His backpack was in the cabinet under the worktop, because he trusted basic lab safety. The lunchbox in question also had Black Widow’s face on it. And Hawkeye’s. Being assassinated would probably be better than letting her see it.

“Oh, did Tony talk to you about me?” she asked, shifting the black backpack she was wearing and pulling a scrunchie from her back pocket. 

Peter nodded, then wondered how well the gesture would translate upside-down. 

Then he realised that his lab book was still down there. 

He kicked off his shoes, and moved into a standing position so he could reach the desk. Natasha raised an eyebrow. 

“Trade secrets?” she asked. A few loose pages fluttered out of the book, and Peter snatched them out of the air. 

The hot wax  _ fwoomed  _ into flames. 

Natasha ignored it.

“Why are you  _ here _ ?” Peter hissed, trying to minimise the noise. Two rooms away, one of Tony’s favourite R&D guys was doing something that involved a lot of vortexing and yelling at his team, and if he decided to wander through, they’d both be doomed. 

Natasha tied her hair back. 

“Just picking up some things,” she said, digging through a cupboard and taking out some falcon tubes. Peter watched her leave, then dropped back to the floor.

Tony was going to _kill_ him. Either because he hadn’t told him Natasha’d broken in, or because he _had_ tattled on her and was playing with thermoplastics without permission or safety goggles.  

Peter sucked air through his teeth, shifted from foot to foot like an idling character in a videogame. She didn’t seem to be doing any damage, really. Just stealing things. Which was terrible. But not  _ terrible  _ terrible. Not antagonise-an-assassin terrible. Tony could afford some falcon tubes. And all the information she was probably taking. And he could afford to not die. 

By the time he’d sorted out the stupid burning wax and started over, Natasha was back.

“What are you up to in here?” she asked. Peter paused in his wax-stirring. “Does Tony know?” 

“Please don’t tell him,” Peter blurted out. “I’m- uh.  _ Semi _ allowed to be in here? I mean, I’m not  _ not  _ allowed, y’know? And I’m working on something...important. And secret! From everyone, not just you.” 

He was clingy when nervous, and Natasha made him  _ very  _ nervous. His hand had formed a seemingly permanent bond to the glass rod he was using to stir. 

Black Widow  _ hovered  _ for a second, like she had something to confess. Peter accepted the glass rod as a newly-assimilated part of his body.

“What did he tell you?” Natasha said, flatly, more of a statement than a question. 

“You kill people.” Peter scuffed a socked toe against the laminate floor. “I mean- I, like, that’s not news to me. The murder. I knew. I’m just not…prepared...”    


He couldn’t find a way to phrase it. Talking to her was as dangerous as doing bomb disposal bare-handed, in terms of what she could find out. And Peter wasn’t great at keeping his mouth shut anyway. He was an  _easy source_ , Tony'd said.

“You shouldn’t talk to me because I’m an  _ evil _ spy,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. “And Tony thinks you’re a liability. If you agree with him there, I can’t stop you. If you don’t... you have my number.” 

She turned and left, her footsteps silent. Halfway through the door, she flipped a middle finger up to the surveillance camera, holding her hand in view for as long as possible while she walked.

Unfortunately for her, nobody got to see the footage. 

Really, it was the least Peter could do in exchange for not being murdered. 

**Author's Note:**

> Bibliograhpy: 
> 
> https://leedshackspace.org.uk/2016/05/09/making-machinable-wax/
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C0_DeuBmsDY
> 
> http://www.instructables.com/id/Machinable-Wax/
> 
> http://www.the-warren.org/GCSERevision/resistantmaterials/plastics.html
> 
> follow me on my new fic tumblr [here!](http://na-no-why-mo.tumblr.com)


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